


Spare Change

by teaaru



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaaru/pseuds/teaaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy, would you like a lift home? </p><p>Who are you?</p><p>The man who got you released. </p><p>Or, another take on why Harry lost his shit inside the Black Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spare Change

 

*** 

The policeman (Frank, was it? Bob? Ralph? He doesn’t remember. It was some common, off the rack name. Like _Gary_.) frowns at him and tells him that he’s free to go. 

But before he gets to leave the interrogation room, _Ralph_ (he decides, is his name) claps a hand to his shoulder, looking way too serious. “I dunno whose cock you’re suckin’ off, kid.” He starts, Yorskshire in his voice and nicotine on his breath. “But you’d better be careful. Types like that can get a bit nasty.”

Then _Ralph_ stares at Eggsy, eyes full of concern and lips pressed into a line. “Just don’t want you in here for something other than petty theft, s’all.” 

And with that, he lets him go.  

Eggsy shrugs, not too keen on appearing like he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. (Even if he really _didn’t_. What the fuck?) Still, he walks out of the precinct with a little frown, eyeing everyone suspiciously. Maybe it was some big joke being played on him. Like… escaping police custody, and then they’ll just grab him right up, doubling his sentence.

But, then. He’s out of the precinct and it doesn’t _look_ like anyone’s coming for him.

So, he descends the stairs quickly, a growing smile on his face, because he’s just _gotten out of an 18 month sentence,_ until—  

“Eggsy,” His name rolls off the man’s tongue like honey. “Would you like a lift home?” 

 

*

His smile falls off almost automatically, because _he knew it_. Growing up with his stepdad in the projects taught him a few things. 

Like, if Eggsy starts up a big-enough ruckus, he’ll leave off hurting mum and hurt _him_ instead. And then to shut up, and take it like a man. Never grass on anyone, else he wants to starve. If anyone starts to ask about the bruises, just lie and lie, until he doesn’t know if he really _did_ fall and bang his ribs on the table. (Of course not. Each and every layer of blue, green and yellow is from Dean. From his fists, from his feet, and when he’s lazy, from his boys.) 

But most of all, Dean’s taught him that _everything_ comes with a price. 

*

Eggsy looks up at man leaning against the precinct’s wall with his neatly styled hair, bespoke thousand-pound suit, and designer sunglasses. Like he’s just waiting to be mugged. And the second he turns the next corner away from the precinct, he probably will be.

“Who are you?” He asks, a deeper frown tugging at his lips. The posh bloke doesn’t ring any bells in his memory. (And it’s eidetic. Although, he thinks wryly, maybe his cock would be more familiar. But then again, he doesn’t look the type to fuck a random glory hole.)

“The man who got you released.” He says, crisp words falling from between prim lips. 

Eggsy just stares at him and stops asking questions. Understanding right away. 

“Thanks.” He says with an easy smile, resigning himself to what comes next. 

The posh bloke introduces himself as Harry Hart as he waves over a sleek, black car. This close to the— to Harry— Eggsy can readily smell his cologne, can appreciate his meticulous care for his appearance and he breathes out a quiet sigh of relief. It could have been much, much worse. (He knows. After all, his usual ones always look like they’ve never even seen a shower, let alone step under it.)

The car pauses at the curb and— Harry, like a gentleman, opens the door for Eggsy like he was some wilting European princess and gestures for him climb aside. But he does, with Harry following suit. The car interior is what you’d expect from someone wearing a suit that’s easily their rations for an entire year. Soft, buttery leather seats and a carpeted floor, bearing no signs of regular use at all.  

Car this nice, he feels like he’s dirtying it up, just by setting foot inside. (He doesn’t fucking belong here. Doesn’t feel quite _right_. He’s used to rank toilets, dark alleyways and the occasional mouldy flat, when they’re good enough to let him bunk overnight.) Slight movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention, as Harry nods to the driver (a real fucking _driver_ , with the cap on and everything! Who has fucking drivers, nowadays? This posh, nice-smelling git who got him out of jail, that’s who.) and a privacy goes up between them.  

 _There’s a cue if I’ve ever seen one_ , Eggsy thinks, as he turns to Harry, a practised grin curling the corners of his lips. “Not afraid you’ll dirty the upholstery?” He asks, one hand going to the older man’s knee, earning him a strange look. “Don’t worry,” He rehashes old lines with a laugh, winking up at Harry before falling to his knees on the floor of the car.  “I always swallow.” 

Ignoring the stunned look on Harry’s face, he crawls between his thighs, hands reaching for the older man’s zip before they’re quickly slapped away. 

Eggsy doesn’t even look surprised, (though his hands twinge a little) only smiling up at Harry playfully. “Hands free, then, Mr. Hart?” He fills the silence with light banter, trying to ignore deepening crease between Harry’s brows. “You’re in for a treat, I’m good with my mouth.” 

Without warning, he leans in and noses over his crotch, feeling his cock twitch under all those layers of clothing (Thank fuck. He thought this Hart bloke wasn’t even interested. But why even bother, right?) His lips go up, searching for the zip before Harry pulls him up by the scruff of his shirt, lips curled into a snarl. “What the fuck are you playing at?” He hisses at Eggsy, straight teeth bared. “After all the trouble I’ve gone to— and _this_ is how you show your gratitude?” 

Eggsy can’t help the whine in his throat as he’s choked, hands scrabbling at Harry’s arms and, by some sort of miracle, Harry settles him down on seat next to him, confusion written on his face. 

“I couldn’t—“ He choked out, rubbing his sore throat, just a little bit more wary of Harry now. “I don’t have… lube on me right now and… condoms are bit expensive.” He avoids the older man’s gaze, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Of course. It was an 18 month sentence, after all. What made him think a blowie was enough? (If only he’d were so lucky.) And uptight git like that probably _wants_ to use condoms, scared to catch anything. _  
_

“Eggsy,” Harry starts slowly, as if he were explaining things to a child. “I’m not… I didn’t bail you out for… oral sex.” His tongue curls around the words a little curiously, lips downturned. “Or sex of any kind, actually.”

“What, you mean you’re straight, or something?” Eggsy looks taken aback now, his brows wrinkling together.  “Or I’m not your type?”  

“I am, what people normally refer to as bisexual.” _And you are very much my type_ , but he doesn’t say that bit out loud. Instead, Harry closes his eyes, fingers massaging his temples, as the car slows down to a stop. 

Eggsy glances out the window and finds himself in front of the Black Pint for the second time within twenty four hours.  

“How about I explain over a pint,” Harry says, getting his bearings together and opens the door to the car. “How your father saved my life?” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> WELL. With all the rentboy, Pretty woman and cherry popping references, eh... how could I not? First time to write fanfiction in ages. Also, Ralph Ineson is the actor for the unnamed policeman. So. I just rolled with it.
> 
> Totally open to beta-reading any Hartwin fic!


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